


A Cool Day in Hell

by wailinwhales (seonweonsonyeondan)



Category: GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Punk, Angst, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-30 14:11:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6427123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seonweonsonyeondan/pseuds/wailinwhales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the summer of 1977 and the boys of Bad Behavior have just arrived in New York City, ready to make their mark on the budding punk rock scene. With the help of 3 other bands, they party, get into trouble, and, of course, play some music alongside their heroes.</p>
<p>Bad Behavior<br/>JB (Bummie) - lead vocals, rhythm guitar<br/>Jackson - drums<br/>Mark - bass<br/>Yugyeom (Yuggie, Yugs) - lead guitar, vocals</p>
<p>Butterfly<br/>J-Hope (Hoseok) - Lead vocals, guitar<br/>Joon (Namjoon) - drums, lyrics, rap<br/>Bambam - synth<br/>V (Taehyung) - bass, vocals</p>
<p>Crow Tit<br/>Suga (Yoongi) - vocals, bass<br/>Jimin (Chim Chim) - lead vocals, guitar<br/>Jungkook (Kookie) - drums</p>
<p>Whalien 52<br/>Junior - lead guitar, vocals<br/>Youngjae (Jae) - lead vocals, guitar<br/>Jin - vocals, drums</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“ _ Are you ready to  _ **_rock_ ** _? _ ”

The crowd screams in response, bodies pressing together in the tiny, dark room. Feedback crackles through the air and the band on stage looks otherworldly and instruments held like soldiers before a battle. Fists punch the air, and sometimes the other patrons, as the first chords screech out, the drums galloping and singer not quite singing. 

JB is in awe. His mouth is agape as he’s jostled by the current of the crowd. Joey  _ fucking _ Ramone is  _ literally 10 feet away from him _ and all he wants to do is jump on that fucking stage and join him in his chorus of “ _ Hey, ho! Let’s go! Hey, ho! Let’s go! _ ” Next to him, his bandmates are screaming, throwing themselves into the crowd; Jackson is absolutely losing his mind, his frenetic energy spilling over and rubbing off on the usually laid-back Yuggie. JB has no idea where Mark is, probably closer to the front, that kid is a fucking bomb waiting go off when you put him in a crowd.

A week of driving and they’re finally here. Their Mecca.

It’s 1977 and they’re in New York City, baby, and the city is going to hell in a handbasket and JB cannot  _ wait _ to experience it all. He swivels his head to the left, hoping Mark hasn’t started a fight and catches a glimpse of the bassist from the Talking Heads. Next to her is Richard Hell and one of the members of Blondie.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes.

“What’s that?” Yuggie screams into JB’s ear. JB nods towards the bassist. The younger’s eyes follow the motion. “Fucking hell is right.”

A giddy grin spreads across his face and he looks at his friend.

“We’re fucking  _ here _ , Yugs. We’re gunna fucking  _ own _ this.” He slings an arm around his friend’s shoulder, pulling him tight. Yuggie is grinning from ear to ear, raises his beer, and lets out a guttural scream. They lose themselves in the music, letting the adrenaline take control. Out of the corner of his eye, JB sees Jackson hoisting Mark on to his shoulders, the pair flailing about wildly. The alcohol has him buzzing and makes him feel like he’s standing on the precipice of something amazing, like he’s witnessing a miracle, that he’s made out of pure energy.

Or maybe someone laced his drink with coke. Whatever. He doesn’t care.

The Ramones finish their set and the crowd of people begin to dissipate. JB stumbles back towards the bar, grinning like the Cheshire cat in those stories. 

The rumble of the crowd comforts him. Everyone discusses everything they just witnessed--everyone is in agreement, they were on fire and everyone can’t wait until they play again. There’s chatter about Patti Smith, New York Dolls and the disco scum club that opened up a few blocks over. JB’s about to make a well-timed snarky comment but a firm hand smacks his shoulder, his witty utterance choked on.

“The fuck--?”

“How’s it feel to finally be in the room where it happens, Bummie?” A wide grin spreads over a baby face under a shock of bright pink hair. 

“Junior.” JB returns the smile to his now roommate, previously an acquaintance with tenuous, somewhat dubious connections. Junior was his cousin’s, girlfriend’s friend of a friend’s friend whom he met once and planted the seed of this probably ill-advised plan to move to NYC. 

Three months ago Junior’s band Whalien 52 opened for Bad Behavior, JB’s band, at a small gig in JB’s hometown. Three months ago they met and Junior said -

_ “If you ever wanna get out, I’ve got a place you and the guys can stay.” _

And that was that.

JB hadn’t even warned Junior that him and the guys--Jackson, and the Tuan brothers: Mark and Yugyeom--were even coming. Just showed up in the middle of the day in front of their tenement in the Lower East Side, and sheepishly asked if that three month old offer still stood.

Junior had given him the same eye smile he’s giving him now, ushering them all in, reintroducing them to the rest of Whalien 52: Junior, Jae, and Jin. 

They’ve only been roommates for a couple days, but JB has never felt more at home.

And now he’s standing in a place he’s only heard about in hushed whispers or drunken brags from bands who tried to make a mark but didn’t. 

Bad Behavior isn’t like those other bands and JB knows it. 

They belong here. Their style of growling melodies and fast guitars and self-deprecating lyrics made them popular amongst a small group, but here. Here JB is sure people will “get” what they’re about.

And now they are living with a band that doesn’t know what a bassist is, that writes spacey punk rock and the difference in genres fueling each group’s creativity to create new music.

“We’re gunna be up there soon, man. Just you wait.” Junior’s eyes sparkle, his small body vibrating from his excitement. The air around him is always like that; Junior’s introspective tendencies could only cover so much of his enthusiasm. 

Through the sea of people, JB sees Jackson talking someone’s ear off. It looks like Jae? And some other guy that JB doesn’t recognize. Jae’s laughing, beer poised to his lips. The other guy nods like he’s never heard anything as fascinating as whatever Jackson is spouting (probably something about jazz musicians being the best drummers). 

At the other end of the room, the Tuan brothers are huddled together, Yuggie talking animatedly with Jin and a tall, beanpole looking motherfucker. The beanpole says something that doesn’t seem to sit well with the eldest in the group, causing him to frown. Mark sizes them up, a dangerous look on his face. He stands his full height and juts his chin out; the tall guy just laughs at the display.

“You may be older than me, but you’re about as intimidating as a Chihuahua pup.”

“Is that so? You haven’t seen me angry, ya beanpole.” The taller guy just continues to laugh goodnaturedly. 

“Mark, don’t be an asshole for once, alright?” Yuggie nudges his older brother. “Sorry, he had whiskey. And he’s also just kind of a dick.” Mark shoves Yuggie with a kind smile on his face. Jin observes with a small sm-ile playing on his handsome face. 

“I have a feeling you are going to be friends,” he chuckles, patting the taller kid’s arm.

The crowd has thinned a bit now; most people opting to either find other clubs or have paired up for the evening. The rest of Whalien 52 and Bad Behavior have joined JB and Junior at the bar.

“Did you still want to go to Times Square?” Jin asks, “It’s late, so there’s probably a shit ton of people still wandering around.”

“YES!” Jackson hops back and forth. “Guys, we gotta go. We’ve been here  _ 2 days _ and we still haven’t gone. We gotta!” 

“Alright, alright, we’ll go. But keep an eye on your wallets,” Junior’s face crinkles into another eye smile, looking at Jackson as if the kid was his own son.

 

After a significant subway ride, they arrive in the middle of Times Square.

Neon lights illuminate everything within at least a mile. Groups of people huddle together as they scurry through the streets, most intentionally avoiding making eye contact with anyone else walking there. The night heat presses down, making everything feel urgent. 

While there’s a good amount of people out for 3am on a Thursday, most are either druggies and their dealers, pimps, or their girls. A few of the women wiggle suggestively at people passing by, others opt for the angry and aloof attitude.

In darker corners, some don’t even try to hide what manner of sins they’re committing. Needy groans, half-interested cries filter out of some of the darkest alleys, while money and baggies exchange hands in the lighter areas. 

It’s everything the small town boys expect and it  _ thrills _ them.

The gang of boys whoop and hollar into the night, basking in that heat and neon, a blur of youthful energy and optimism. Jackson and Jae excitedly point and gawk at the strip clubs lining the streets.

“We gotta go to one of these,” Jackson breathes out, eyes filled with the hot pink “ **GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS** ” neon sign. Jae nods enthusiastically next to him.

“Guys, we should. It’ll be ace!” 

“Do you have $3? That’s the cheapest cover charge, ya know.”

“Shiiiiiiiiiit, that’s expensive. I think I only have, like, $1 left.”

“I only have $2.” Jackson and Jae look dejected, whisfully taking each other into their arms. 

“We will be back Bunnies and Honeys. We’ll be back for you!” JB smacks Jackson. “Uhm, OW.”

“Stop being so fucking dramatic. We’ll go to a strip club once we have money. And right now, I’d rather eat a hot dog.” 

Jin returns to the group as quickly as he left, glancing around before elbowing Junior. Eyebrow raised, Junior examines his bandmate. That innocent angel smile has a hint of mischief, the kind that Junior knows Jin has something planned and whether or not he’s going to like it isn’t a question--the question is what kind of a story is this going to be in the morning.

“We should get home; it’s getting late and some of us need to work in the morning,” a polite Jin says. He grabs Junior’s wrist and drags him towards a darker spot away from the confused others.

“My usual guy had some bud. We should invite the other bands over for a smoke.” The mischief still dances in Jin’s eyes, making Junior nervous. Jin is a secret prankster and now that he has Jackson and Mark, Junior knows there will be very few moments of peace in their tiny apartment.

“No. No way. Not tonight.” Junior makes an x in front of his body, head shaking violently. “They  _ just _ got here. I know Yuggie and Jacks smoke, but let’s not do this yet, kay? JB might kill you.”

“Maybe that’s the point.” His tongue darts out and swipes along his lower lip.

“Gross, dude. Not when we all share the place, okay?” Jin smiles innocently, knowing Junior’s awkwardness about anything resembling sex and relationships.

“Fine, but we have to go to their next show. Chim Chim just might sick Suga on us if we don’t show up.” Junior strokes his chin when they’re then joined by the rest of the group.

“If we’re not going to get into any more trouble, let’s book it,” JB offers, “The way that guy’s looking at us is kinda wacked.” Some burnout leers at the young men, teeth rotting and way too skinny, eyes glazed in a way that suggests whatever he’s got, they don’t want it. One last look at the addict sends them scurrying to the nearest subway station, ready to find adventure somewhere else.

 

It’s rounding 5am when they all finally clamber up rickety dilapidated steps to their 5th floor studio apartment. They had found a dive bar on their way back and Mark had dared a very inebriated Jae to try and get an older woman’s number. Instead, Jae had just stumbled and fell flat on his face while she watched in confusion and horror.

Jin and Jackson help the bruised Jae up the steps, the former cooing over his bandmate while the latter sniggers while imitating the sound Jae made while falling. Jae protests, “I can walk myself, I swear, I swear I’ll punch you, Jacks--” while trying to stumble without help. Junior rolls his eyes and shoves the door open, kicking off his shoes. The rest follow them inside. They disperse to their respective sleeping arrangements, with Jin holding Jae’s hair back as he vomits in the bathroom.

“How was your first night out?” Junior gives JB another eye smile, hair more disheveled, beat up leather jacket slung over his shoulder.

“It was...interesting?” Junior gives him a shocked expression. “Nah, not in a bad way. Like, there’s so much to take in. It’s all a bit...much, I guess.”

“But I’m excited for more. It’s fucking unreal.” JB lets out a laugh. He observes the apartment; Jae lies on top of Jin on the couch with the elder’s feet propped up on one of the practice amps, while the Tuan brothers and Jacks are passed out on the mattress on the floor. 

He feels something well up inside of him. He knows he’s scared, he’s worried, he’s uncertain, but seeing his best friends huddled on a shitty queen mattress, snoring blissfully, he feels a sense of responsibility. A sense of pride that he’s going to lead them and together they’re going to grow into something fucking extraordinary. 

Junior gives him a knowing smile, a comforting hand rests on his bicep.

“I really think you’re going to like it here, JB.”


	2. I'm Part of the Blank Generation, prt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad Behavior and Whalien 52 attend Butterfly and Crow Tit's gig at a party. It goes...not according to JB's plans.

The crowd for this show is nothing like the one from earlier in the week. It’s not a mix of mid-20 somethings and older teens; it’s more the latter, mostly people between 16 and 20. JB regards the crowd with trepidation.

He’s happy that they’re back with their peers--being around older punks is a weird experience--but he isn’t so sure about the bands.

Earlier in the week, a little handwritten note had been left on the front door. It read:

_Dearest Whalien 52 & Bad Behavior~ _

_You are cordially invited to attend the most dope, rad, off the hook house party in the history of ever! Please come and show_ **_CROW TIT_ ** _and_ **_BUTTERFLY~_ ** _how much you love us!_

_We love you~_

_-Chimchim & the rest of _ **_CROW TIT_ ** _and_ **_BUTTERFLY_ **

_PS: If you don’t come, Suga knows where you live~_

 

When Jae read the postscript, Jackson had to pat his back for several minutes since he apparently choked on his own tongue.

“Guys, we gotta go. I don’t want Suga to beat me up again.” The rest of Whalien laughed, but also agreed. Even if they were friends, it seemed like whoever this “Suga” was, he was terrifying. 

From how they talked about the other bands, though, it was obvious the three bands were pretty close and frequently supported each other. 

Junior excitedly told JB about Butterfly’s music, gushing about how their lyrics were just  _ so _ poetic and the layering of  _ sonic waves, man, _ are  _ so zen _ and how  _ revolutionary  _ their music is.

“It sounds like you got a boner for them, man.”

“Oh totally. Total music boner.” Junior took another hit off the blunt, talking while holding the smoke in. “They’re psychedelic and funky and shit and I haven’t heard anyone that sounds like them before. Some cats in Georgia say there’s an up-n-coming band with a similar sound but who knows. I just love the psychedelic vibes they’ve got.” He looked starry-eyed as he talked, little puffs of smoke escaping when he got too excited.

“What about the other band? Crow Tit?” It was JB’s turn to breathe deep before passing it to Yugyeom on his right.

“They’re more your style. Their leader, Suga, he’s a fucking  _ beast _ on the bass.” Jin chimed in, watching with a bemused expression. 

“I think you and Suga would get along, JB.” Jae added. 

“Suga is a dumb stage name,” Mark commented from the couch, his hand outstretched, waiting for Yuggie to pass off the blunt. “Stop bogarting the fucking blunt, Yuggie.” His little brother stuck his tongue out, took one last indignant drag, and passed it, but not before getting kicked.

“Well, to be honest all their stage names are kind of weird. Their drummer goes by ‘Kookie’ and their lead singer goes by ‘Chimchim.’” Jin looked thoughtful as he said this.

“Ah, the guy who wrote the note?” Jin noded in response to Jackson’s question.

“It’s only because their  _ real _ names are weirder though. Not as weird as Yuggie’s real name,” Jae pinched the youngest’s cheeks, making said boy squeak in surprise and horror. “Or Bambam’s.”

In any case, JB has high expectations, even with his doubts, particularly for Crow Tit. The air is filled with the overwhelming scent of booze and cigarettes, with the telltale hint of skunk wafting about every so often. 

They’re in someone’s garage with no actual stage, just a rectangle of space where the amps and mics are set up. A short guy crouches in front of an open case, wearing black high top Converse, black shorts, paired with a Yankees baseball jersey and backwards, black snapback. When he stands up, he runs a hand through his jet black hair before readjusting his cap. JB notices he has a tattoo poking out from beneath his sleeve and another one of a dagger piercing a heart with the words “ _ Die Young or Live Forever _ ” around it on his calf. He makes eye contact with JB, giving him a once over. The edges of his lips tug upwards, and he walks over to the incredulous man. 

He has the presence of someone twice his size, JB notices. He’s at least a head shorter than JB, but once he’s standing in front of the taller, JB is the one who feels smaller.

“You must be JB,” his voice is deep and raspy, “I’m Yoongi, but most people know me as Suga.” He extends a hand in greeting; his grip firm and confident. JB finds himself immediately annoyed by his lip piercing and nose ring. And how sure he is of himself.

“Ah, so you’re the infamous Suga.” Suga smirks at that. He takes in the black haired man. He seems out of place with his angular jaw and sharp eyes.  _ He’s all edges _ , Suga thinks. A gold cross dangles from his already overly pierced ears and each time JB fidgets it catches the low lights in the room.

“I am. Both Junior and Jin haven’t stopped talking about you and your band since you got to New York.” There’s something to his tone, like he doesn’t really get the hype, even if he’s trying to be polite.

“Junior seems to think we’ll get along. Says your band is dope.” JB crosses his arms, trying to seem unaffected by the implication that maybe Bad Behavior isn’t as good as Suga has been led to believe.

“I guess you’ll see.” They stand glaring each other down until Junior comes up and slings his arms around each of their shoulders.

“I see the two savages have met!” He quirks his eyebrow, grinning his crescent smile at the two.  He pats Suga’s head, bringing a genuine, gummy smile to the smaller’s face. 

“Junior, light of my life, I was wondering where you were hiding.”

“I was just chatting with Joon. Did you know his obsession with Patti Smith has only gotten worse?”

“Oh, I know.” That gummy smile is on his face again. JB kind of wants to punch it off.

Junior continues talking with Suga and JB lets his attention wander. Butterfly is almost done setting up. The tall beanpole that was talking with the Tuan brothers at the Ramones gig places a cymbal onto his drum kit while giving a dimpled grin to Jin who occupies himself by spinning happily around on the stool behind the kit. The tall kid’s brassy blonde hair flops over on one side, revealing the shaved sides as he shakes his head at something Jin says. Jin had mentioned him when they were walking over. What was his name? Joon? JB is pretty sure it was Joon.

Just in front of them is a smiley guy with the worst bright purple bowl cut and a safety pin as an earring fiddling with the amps and tuning a beat up guitar. He’s chatting with Yuggie who’s  nodding as if his life depended on it. Jae is standing off to the side, adding comments every once in awhile. JB hears Jae call the purple haired guy “Hobi,” which would make sense. 

On the other side of the make-shift stage are two tiny guys, skinnier than anyone else JB has ever seen. The taller of the two sports a leather jacket with no shirt, leaving his chestpiece of swallows and “Live humble” on display. His eyes are lined with kohl and his face is showing something that  looks more like a rectangle of teeth than a smile. The shorter is snorting something from a gold cylinder, delicately avoiding his nose ring. He’s dressed in a flashy polyester shirt, unbuttoned to his navel and tight leather pants. Jackson is crouched next to them in front of the newest synth on the market.

“HOW THE HELL DID YOU AFFORD THIS??” Jackson’s eyes have practically left his skull to be glued to the synth. The shorter man chuckles.

“I got a side business.” He leans on it, smirking at the kneeling man. “You’re Jackson right? I’m Bambam and this is V.” 

He looks Jackson dead in the eyes and says,

“You know, this is a good angle to see you from.” 

V elbows Bambam while a bright blush dusts Jackson’s cheeks. “Keep it in your pants, man.” 

The shorter man shrugs, eyes never leaving Jackson’s. JB watches with amusement as Jackson stands, fiddling nervously with his bangs.

“I, uh, I should let you finish setting up.” Jackson shuffles away in embarrassment. He sees JB’s amused expression and just stabs the air with his middle finger. At that, JB loses it and doubles over laughing. Junior and Suga give him a look but let him laugh it off. 

The crowd slowly quiets itself naturally when the band stands at attention. Most of the people gathered are either friends of the bands or friends of the hosts.  _ Lucky them, a friendly crowd _ , JB muses. The one named Hobi gently grasps the mic, scanning the room with a bright smile. His mouth opens and Joon crashes a cymbal. JB is impressed by the tone of Hobi’s voice. It’s scratchy, yes, but also well controlled. The guitar’s distortion fills the small room with its quick riffs.

The addition of V’s deep baritone startles JB at first; a guy that small shouldn’t have a voice that deep, and yet here he was, his voice almost as deep as his bass lines.

_ You’re just like a butterfly _ _   
_ _ From afar, I steal glances; if we touch hands, will I lose you? _ _   
_ _ You shine in this pitch darkness that is the butterfly effect _ _   
_ __ Your light touches, I forget reality at once

The lyrics are a little weird, if JB is being honest, but that’s because they’re not really his style. They’re airy and poetic while JB writes raw and aggressive. But he can’t help but sway, enjoying the surf and psychedelic vibe.

“They do a lot of drugs,” Jae yells into JB’s ear.

“I got that,” JB laughs, grinning at the younger.

“I’m pretty sure Joon wrote this about a girl he’s never talked to,” muses Jae.

“Or an acid trip,” offers Jin, wrapping his arm around Jae’s waist. 

Butterfly’s music possesses the energy of a night on the Jersey Shore and the spaciness of the psychedelics of the 60s. Junior’s description really didn’t do it any justice. They’re practically buzzing like a UFO, especially with the constant feedback from their amps. The guitar wails with treble and distortion while the bass bottoms out and rattles your bones. Joon’s beats are danceable and similar to disco while the synth mimicks those beats and emphasizes the pitch of Hobi’s guitar.

The crowd reflects the energy from the band: V jumps around like he’s on speed when he’s not singing; Hobi swivels his hips and shakes until he’s on his knees, playing like it’s the only thing that matters. Joon pounds the drums and makes faces that oscillate between ridiculous and downright sinful while Bambam seductively rolls his body and stalks in the front of the stage to try and get the crowd more involved. 

After about three songs their set comes to a crescendo and a small circle pit has formed in the middle of the room. V is leading them in a weird mosh pit conga line, his leather jacket discarded and his sweaty torso and extensive shoulder tattoos now on display. They end their set with V piggybacking Bambam while Joon and Hobi are lost to the music.

There’s very little downtime between Butterfly and Crow Tit; the setup for Crow Tit is pretty minimalist with only Suga, Chimchim and Kookie in the band. JB notices a trend for the drummers in all their bands: they all are the tallest members. Kookie has at least an inch or two on Suga and by process of elimination, the alarmingly red redhead must be Chimchim. Someone mutters something about his new snake bite piercings, another mentions how they’d like to find out how it feels to kiss him with them.

“Jesus, does  _ everyone _ want to fuck him?” JB mutters to Jackson.

“Bro.  _ I _ kind of want to fuck him and I’m pretty certain I don’t like dick,” Jackson laughs.

Most of the girls and a couple of the guys coo at Chimchim, admiring how built he is. JB has to admit Chimchim is probably in the best shape out of any of the bands’ members. ( _ He probably doesn’t want tacos at 3am _ , JB snorts to himself) His loose white tee and shorts show this off pretty well and when he bends over to pick up his guitar, JB swears he hears someone let out a small moan. 

Kookie on the other hand has bright blue hair which contrasts sharply with how young the kid obviously is. Jin mentioned that he was older than Yuggie by, like, what? Two months?? But, damn, he  _ looks _ 16 while Yuggie rarely gets carded when they take him out drinking. He seems more like a calm kid, kind of like Yuggie. A duck, as Mark likes to call him; seemingly calm and collected on the outside, but busy and always moving just below the surface.

There’s absolutely no warning when Crow Tit decides to begin their set. Chimchim’s guitar screams to life and he haphazardly plays some power chords while singing and wailing into the mic. Kookie’s drumming gallops, his drum roll impressive and oddly precise considering Chimchim’s slightly unhinged style of guitar playing.

Suga, though, is the complete opposite of his bandmates. He grooves smoothly and it’s more than obvious he’s the foundation for the band. One hand elegantly walks up and down the neck of his instrument while the other plucks the thick strings. He peers up through his bangs, his eyes unfocused but alert. He’s solid, consistent, and most of Chimchim’s melodies come from the bass line Suga thumbs out.

_ They call me try-hard _ _   
_ _ We were cursed at, this generation _ _   
_ _ Quickly, chase ‘em _ _   
_ _ Thanks to the stork, my legs spread _ (JB cocks an eyebrow at this; he’s not sure if it’s supposed to be sexual, but  _ damn _ it sounds sexual)   
__ So call me try-hard

JB finds himself liking them. He likes how Chimchim’s voice is the complete opposite of his guitar skills. He likes how Kookie looks like he has no idea how to play drums, but has the precision of a former marching band drummer. He likes that Suga plays like a jazz musician instead of just playing the root notes for Chimchim.

And he  _ hates _ that he likes them. Mostly because he’s decided that there’s something about Suga he doesn’t like. And he  _ really _ doesn’t want to give Suga the satisfaction of knowing that JB likes his band.

As JB is internally cursing that Crow Tit has to actually be good, even with all their faults, Suga’s eyes find him. There’s a little cloud of gloom hanging over JB and Suga finds it so endearing that the new kid is upset that  _ his _ band isn’t the biggest thing in town. JB starts when he realizes that Suga has been watching him from the stage; that just makes him more angry. 


	3. I Belong to the Blank Generation, prt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party continues. JB's night just gets more awkward.

People throw themselves into the pit; bodies violently slam against each other as JB hurls himself into the middle of the fray. He doesn’t really  _ mean _ to punch and kick extra aggressively, but with the fact that everyone else is  giving twice as much as they are  receiving, JB doesn’t feel that bad. During a particularly rowdy song, JB is thrown like a ragdoll into a much larger guy who shoves him face first into someone’s elbow. His sight from his right eye blacks out for a few seconds before the first sting of pain sits in.

“ _ Fuuuuuuuuuuuck _ .” He grabs his face in his hands while frantically moving through the crowd, trying to find a bathroom with only one functional eye. On his way he spots a fridge, grabs a couple beer cans, and continues his search. His first attempt is occupied by a couple making out passionately and his second contains  two girls taking turns vomiting into the toilet. He loops back around to the first bathroom, a beer can pressed to his quickly swelling eye, praying to any higher power that the couple is done and hopefully it won’t smell too strongly of sex or whatever else they may have gotten up to.

Fate isn’t on his side. Instead he opens the door to a different couple, with one on their knees and the other---

“YUGYEOM TUAN??” His youngest member glances up with hazy eyes, barely registering who calls him. 

“Oh shit.” The girl glances over, removing her lips with a pop. JB looks from Yuggie to the girl to Yuggie’s erection ( _ oh god, gross _ ) and back to Yuggie. Yuggie just stares and the girl shifts uncomfortably. “Uhm? Brocode, dude?” 

JB turns on his heels and slams the door shut, really wishing he had brain bleach to rid himself of everything he just saw. He chugs the last of his beer before popping open the next and seeking  _ anyone _ out. The concert portion of the evening has come to an end and someone starts playing some records to help keep the mood going. He spots Jackson among the people, chatting excitedly with Joon. JB weaves his way through the crowd, using that tall beanpole as a reference point. 

The pain in his eye is forgotten as the beer starts taking effect. He stumbles into Jackson’s side, clutching on like Jackson is his only hope for survival. Both drummers look at the black haired teen in shock.

“Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaacks, I just saw the worst thing in the world.”

“Worse than walking in on your parents?” Joon offers.

“Potentially. I saw Yuggie getting a blowjob.” At this Jackson doubles over laughing. 

“You saw his dick! You totally saw the baby’s dick!”

“It’s  _ not _ funny! It was awful! I feel so violated!”

“Imagine how  _ he _ feels! Oh my god! Ohmygod, I can’t wait to tell Mark!” JB shoves his best friend, glaring at him.

“God, you’re the worst!” Joon chuckles lowly at the distressed JB, swigging his drink. He digs through his pockets before coming to the realization that what he’s looking for is behind his ear.

“I think you need some help from our dear friend, Mary Jane, fellas,” he smirks, offering an expertly wrapped joint and a lighter to the pair. Jackson eagerly takes both into his hands and lights up immediately. After greedily inhaling, he hands it off to JB. “Oh, just so you know, it’s got some mandy in there as well.”

JB chokes on the smoke in his lungs, staring disbelieving at Joon. The rooster-haired teen swiftly takes the laced joint into expert hands and breathes deeply. Jackson just shrugs at the new information and accepts the joint again.

“Dude, some warning would've been nice.”

“Don’t be such a yuppie,” Joon teases. “You ran away from home and are in some stranger’s garage agreeing to smoke some stranger’s weed. What’d you expect?” He blows his smoke right into JB’s face. 

“You’re lucky it’s just mandy and not something else.” While his words are harsh, his expression is kind. JB didn’t notice it before, but Joon’s got a thick Brooklyn accent. It matches his mischievous face, especially when he has a joint pressed between his lips.

JB shuts his mouth, willing to accept that he’s going to be more hungover tomorrow than he planned. Both the booze and the drugs are hitting him at the same time, making him less than talkative. He listens as Joon and Jacks exchange their favorite drummers, both dead and alive. JB half expects Joon to propose to Jacks then and there since the two seem to have almost identical taste in music. He rolls his eyes when Jackson’s high pitched laugh bubbles out at something the beanpole said. JB is definitely a third wheel tonight.

He turns around to find anyone else and walks straight into Suga. The shorter man looks up, surprised at walking face first into someone’s chest. When he sees who it is, he breaks into a gummy smirk. JB internally cringes; it’s really not his night.

“Well, that doesn’t look too good,” Suga lifts his hand to the bruise under JB’s right eye, tracing it with calloused fingers. “The crowd likes to get rough when we’re playing.” JB ignores Suga’s implication. He doesn’t need another sexually awkward moment just yet. Suga’s smirk just grows and he cocks his pierced eyebrow.

“What’d you think?”

“Of what,” JB mutters, knowing full well what Suga’s asking about.

“Of our set.”

“Mmm, it was pretty good.” JB hesitates before continuing. “But…”

“But?”

“Your guitarist sucks, man.” Suga’s eyes flash a little at that statement.

“Yeah, but that’s why there’s me. Besides, he has a killer voice. And he’s so fuckable, don’t you think.” Suga gives JB the biggest shit-eating grin, the kind that he realizes means Suga is telling him to go fuck himself.

“And if you insult Jimin again, I’ll shoot you and make it look like that serial shooter did it.” The raven haired man pushes past him to join Joon and Jackson.

It really isn’t JB’s night.

 

Junior finds him later off to the side, leaning on a wall, trying to keep himself composed since everyone’s movements leave shadows and echoes of where they once were.

“How you doin’ there, bud?” Junior slurs his words, not as thinks as he sober himself to be.

“I hate him!” JB snaps, making eye contact with Junior.

“Joon? Don’t hate him. He’s justa asshole.”

“What? No!”

“What?”

“I hate Suga.” Junior stares at JB blankly.

“...Suga…?”

“Yes.” Junior sways; his shadow trails distracting JB. “Junior,  _ please _ stop moving.” He weakly reaches a hand out to steady his friend.

“How can you hate Suga? He’s such a grandpa!” Junior’s pink hair flops around as he giggles. “You two’re, like,  _ twins _ . Ol’, grumpy, twins.” 

“I don’t wanna  _ twin, _ that’s weird, Junior.” He’s gripping Junior’s shoulders, a panicked look in his eyes. “He said he’d shoot me!”

“Did you tell him that Chimchim is a shit guitarist?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re  _ so _ screwed!” Junior resumes his giggling. JB feels sick. Like, genuinely sick. He covers his mouth, searching for his water.

“If you’re going to yack, ya better go to a toilet,” a Jersey accent warns.  A strong grip pulls JB towards  _ that _ bathroom, solidifying JB’s need to empty his stomach immediately. He grabs the toilet and immediately regrets the hot dog he had for dinner. Groaning he rests his head on the cold porcelain. 

“You doin’ okay?” JB struggles to look up, the whole bathroom spinning. Hobi kneels over him, a concerned, yet dazed, expression on his face.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Here, drink some water.” JB gratefully takes the cup he’s offered and gulps down its contents quicker than he probably should.

“Did you smoke some of Joon’s angel dust?” JB can only groan in reply. A soothing hand pats him on the shoulder.

“Congrats, you’ve officially been accepted into the family,” Hobi grins dopily at the obviously sick JB. Before JB can object, he’s being lifted up by Hobi and dragged to the kitchen. Someone had ordered a bunch of pizzas and people gather round to grab a slice. Hobi steers JB to an empty chair and grabs a couple of slices for the two of them and plops down next to him.

“The food should help.” Hobi takes a bite, grinning at his new partner. “If it doesn’t you can totally punch Joon. He has a bad habit of lacing his joints and not telling the people he’s smoking with.” He gestures for JB to start eating, a smile that probably could have ended a war threatening to split his face in two.

Hobi was right; the food helps everything stop spinning enough for JB to enjoy the effect the MDMA-weed combo has on the world. Hobi chats to him amicably, asking him all sorts of questions that he's only vaguely sure of answering. 

At one point he sees Jae and Yuggie chatting with Chimchim, some adoring fangirls hovering close by. They seem to be getting along well and they're soon joined by Kookie. 

JB feels someone hug him from behind, surprised to find Jin there, humming in his ear happily.

“What a great night,” he sighs, taking a seat next to Hobi. “Joon didn't piss anyone off, both your sets were great, and from what I heard, Yuggie got some.” Jin grins at JB, obviously having heard about his trauma.

“Let's just forget about the last one, okay? I'm scarred for life.” JB shivers from the memory, really wishing he could forget it. Jin steals a bit of Hobi’s pizza and smiles sweetly at the other boy.

“I mean, I guess, welcome to the family, Bummie.”


End file.
